My day started early, because the fur kids wanted their breakfast. Cats, as the saying goes, do not have snooze alarms. It is impossible to sleep through three cats who are alarming rather than snoozing.
After silencing the kitty alarms with nice full bowls of kibble and getting the coffee perking, I started to get ready to head off to work. I opened the drawer where I keep my unmentionables.
My still-foggy brain slowly grasped the fact that, no matter how late I got home last night, I really should have done that load of laundry. Because there was no way that I would be getting dressed until at least some laundry was done. I glanced at the clock. I checked my calendar.
I have an old Palm Pilot. The orderliness of reality depends on my Palm Pilot. It contains my brain. You think I jest, gentle reader, but I am serious. Were anything to happen to my Palm, the universe would implode because all known laws of physics would cease to exist. And I would be even later to appointments than I already am. And my hair would turn grayer faster out of sheer panic.
Oh, wait. That last has already happened. But, thanks to Carla the wonder-stylist, I can exist in blissful denial. Actually, Carla says that I have hardly any gray. It’s all white. Since I would look like a ghost with white hair, Carla takes care of that. And I have beautiful, magical, color. (I feel a Disney song coming on…)
But I digress.
I checked my calendar and determined that I could handle the morning meeting from home, show up in person at noon, and take care of the stuff that really required my actual bodily presence after lunch. That would give me time to take care of the aforementioned laundry issue, thus allowing me to actually get dressed some time before noon, etc. I could pick up lunch from the burrito cart near work, and I’d be all set.
Doesn’t that sound like a simple and elegant plan?
I thought so. But that was before the battery died on my speakerphone, forcing me to balance a phone on my shoulder while typing and guaranteeing that I would have a stiff neck. And I blame the neck stiffness for the clumsy little stumble I took on the front steps at work. It would have been little, that is, except that, in trying to save my burrito (I was hungry!), I did fall over a bit more than I had really thought I was going to, and sort of jammed one finger against the concrete step so now I have a bruised, blue fingernail. And of course it’s my middle finger. So people may have thought I was not a happy camper, what with that blue finger flashing around and all, even though I wasn’t really trying to flip anyone off.
Although there was a bit of blue language, and probably some flipping off, that was directed at my computer when I turned it on, expecting to continue working on the document that I had spent four hours on yesterday, only to find it gone. Gone. G.O.N.E. Nowhere. Gone. That’s four hours, vanished into the aether. Four. Hours.
I’m a pretty smart cookie, I’d like to think. I can usually ferret out any hiding place a document tries to wiggle into. It was not there. I have no idea what happened to it.
Except that’s just the kind of day it was. The kind of day when your work goes poooofft for no reason and everything and everyone around you is in total panic mode.
Did someone ask for a do-over on Monday? Was one Monday not enough? Is the moon full or Mercury in retrograde or something?
The fax machine wouldn’t even work and it was 1:30 before I finally got to eat my (cold, slightly squished) burrito while I tried valiantly to concentrate on yet another teleconference while still trying vainly to find my document.
One of my colleagues who recognized I was having a day — probably because my hair, which had been perfectly behaving when I left the house — began to expand as I ran my (bruised, blue) fingers through it in frustration — brought me a Dove chocolate. You know how Dove chocolates have little sayings on the insides of the wrappers? This one said (I am not making this up), Get your feet massaged.
How would I have time to do that, seeing as how I lost 4 hours worth of work on a document I’m only half finished with, I’m having to deal with multiple crises and I can’t find a working fax machine? Unless a foot-masseuse shows up under my desk, it’s not going to happen.
water and bubbles
I was so glad to come home.
Because I knew that I was coming home to Scharffen Berger chocolate (dinner of stressed-out champions everywhere), courtesy of Marie. And the Great Green Glob was there to be knit on for a few mindless garter-stitch only rows (carefully, with one finger sort of sticking out).
You can see from the picture that the Great Green Glob has progressed. In the semi-stretched-out part you can see the waves, and below the waves are bubbles. Next come the fish. I am getting there, slowly but surely.
And I’m glad, because today I found this pattern and totally and completely fell in love. I have the pattern in hand, and I’m now looking for just the perfect yarn. Silky, I think. And honey-colored. And slightly variegated or hand-painted. But just slightly. I’m thinking I might find the perfect thing at Oregon Flock & Fiber. We shall see.
Tomorrow, gentle reader, is another day!